


I'm Right Where You Left Me

by thatviciousvixen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christ I just needed to fix what happened to poor Frederick, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Forgiveness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatviciousvixen/pseuds/thatviciousvixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will stood quickly, walking in before Frederick could change his mind and retract the invitation. He looked around, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he took in the townhouse. Is was definitely scaled down from Frederick’s last lavish residence. It was barely even decorated, just some furniture and his laptop set up at the kitchen table.</p><p>“It’s...nice,” he said carefully, hands in his pockets.</p><p>“No it isn’t,” Frederick snapped, dropping his bag in the kitchen. He locked the wheels of his chair, bracing his weight carefully on the counter as he stood to grab a wine glass. “I sleep here, that’s about it.”</p><p>Will was silent for a moment, watching Frederick pour himself a glass of wine and drawing his fingers over the back of the couch. “You could always come home, then. Come back with me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Right Where You Left Me

Frederick didn’t expect visitors anymore.

The book was out, the press tour done. He’d done his interviews with that God-awful Freddie Lounds, and now she was on to the next great serial killer hunting throughout Baltimore. Everything was finished, and all he had to show for it now was a quiet home and work-days spent going back and forth with Hannibal Lecter. And a body full of scars.

It was supposed to be different. 

He wasn’t supposed to be alone in this. 

Instead Lecter had ended up with the only thing he’d truly wanted; the knowledge that Will Graham would go to the grave with him, wrapped in each other’s arms as they went head first over a cliff and into the sea. It would be romantic, if it didn’t make the bile rise in his throat and burn him from the inside out.

At the end of the day he knew he was far too old to believe in romance, to believe that everyone had a Soul Mate or some silly notion like that. Still, he felt like they’d come awfully close. He could picture those nights in Wolf Trap so perfectly in his mind, nights spent with a dog on his lap and Will’s head on his shoulder while they dozed in front of the cheerfully burning fireplace. There were dinners spent getting to know each other more than they ever thought they would, nights gently peeking behind the masks the world had forced them to create. Nights of quiet and comfort, nights of passion, nights of pain as they compared old scars. No matter what it was, they were nights spent together.

And then Will was gone. Nothing more than a cold conversation in a hospital bed, and then an empty home full of dogs he didn’t know what to do with. He’d grown fond of them, but they reminded him too much of Will. He’d damn near begged those goons from the BAU, Price and Zeller, to watch over them. They did. He knew that deep down they understood.

Besides, all his time these days was taken up by physical therapy, plastic surgery, psychiatrists trying to glue him together whenever he fell apart.

He’d heard from Alana that Will was back in town, back home and back with his dogs. Frederick didn’t bother to check. He didn’t care when or why he parted with Lecter, didn’t care if Lecter was dead or incarcerated or hiding in Will’s bedroom fucking him silly while the FBI tore the world apart trying to find him. He didn’t care if Will had spent these long months apart longing for him but unable to reach him, or if he’d spent these long months apart figuring out how to kill him off once and for all. He just didn’t care.

The sick part - the part that really got him - was that he knew that Lecter could never truly love Will. He could be fascinated, of course. And he was; deeply, disgustingly fascinated. Obsessed even. But that wasn’t love, not the love Frederick had to offer. 

And Will still left. Still went to the man that had gutted him and left him to die on a cold kitchen floor.

Fuck. 

Frederick sighed deeply, letting his head fall forward and thud onto his desk. What did he have to look forward to now, to hope for? What was he supposed to do with his broken life, his broken face?

The sound of his intercom buzzing was sharp and unwelcome in the quiet of his misery. With a sigh he sat back up, hitting the button. “Yes?”

“A visitor here to see you, Dr. Chilton.”

Frederick sighed, straightening his tie. He’d taken his old position at the BSHCI when Alana declined to return from wherever she was hiding. It gave him something to do, something to focus on other than the pull and stretch and itch and burn of his slowly healing skin. People rarely came to seek him out now, so it was always a bit of a surprise when people showed up for him. He pulled a small compact mirror out of a drawer, making sure his contact was even and his partial was sitting correctly in his mouth. He didn’t bother looking at the fine scars that surrounded his mouth, he barely saw them anymore. “Alright, send them in.”

As soon as he hung up he kicked himself for not asking who the guest was. There were so many people these days he didn’t want to see.

A soft knock, a gentle turn of the handle. The door opened, and Will Graham was standing in his doorway.

It felt like a suckerpunch right to the gut, seeing him standing there. He looked like hell. A ragged gash across his forehead and another gouged into his right cheek, a bizarre limp he assumed had something to do with falling off of a fucking cliff. There were so many pieces of him missing.

He still looked as lovely as ever.

It took everything in Frederick to school his features, to keep himself calm. The last thing he needed to do was burst into tears like a schoolgirl who’d lost her first love. He was a grown man and he was fully capable of keeping himself together. Will had made his choice, and the world had kept turning. It would keep turning now, even with the subject of so much of his agony standing right in front of him.

It took some time to realize they were sitting in complete silence, each staring and waiting for the other to speak. Frederick took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before motioning to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”

Will slowly moved to do so, eyes trained on Frederick as if he were trying to discern his motives. As if Frederick had been the one to disappear without a trace and then reappear in his life with no warning or explanation. Frederick could feel something like rage burning where his heart used to be.

Still, he was fine. He was in control. 

He took another steadying breath before he spoke. “You look like you expect me to attack. Don’t worry, the wheelchair makes it difficult to spring on anyone.” His words were cold, shards of ice coming from his throat. He hoped they stung at least a little bit.

Will curled his fingers around the arms of his chair, slouched low with his feet planted flat on the floor. “I wanted to come see you.”

Frederick closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what Will could possibly be playing at. They were so far beyond social visits, he was loathe to even call them acquaintances anymore. Yet there was Will, calm and quiet and lovely and practically holding his breath as he waited for some sort of response.

Frederick opened his eyes, narrowing them. “You’re a bit too late. This would have been a good trip to make when I woke up in the hospital or any time in between. Now though, now I’m not really taking visitors.”

“Frederick, you have to understand,” Will argued, his usual stubborn self. “So much was riding on me, and so much went wrong. What the hell was I supposed to do?” His anxiety was back, just as bad as it had been before. Frederick could see it in the way he fidgeted in his chair, the way his eyes flickered anywhere but to Frederick’s own. “I was the only one who could coax Lecter out in the open, the only one who could lure Dolarhyde into a trap. I had to go.”

He believed it. He genuinely believed that he’d done the right thing, that all his actions were completely sensible and justified. Following Hannibal to Italy, escaping death again and again, nearly losing his face to Mason Verger. Was this normal life to Will? Had he become so jaded? Worse yet, had he become Hannibal Lecter?

Frederick could feel the anger bubbling up in his throat, uncontainable. Before he could stop them the words tumbled out, sounding so much more hateful than he actually felt. “You had to? You _had_ to? You didn’t have to do a damn thing, Will. You could have stayed here with me, could have made a life with me. You didn’t even _acknowledge_ me afterwards. When I was laying in that stupid bath in agony, contending with the fact that you sent me to my near death? And you barely had the decency to come see me? _That_ I’m sure you didn’t have to do. You could have at least been kind, could have let me down easy, it was the bare minimum I’d expected after what...after what…” His words trailed away and he averted his gaze, cheeks flushed.

“After what we’d become,” Will finished softly. His words sounded so pitying, Frederick wanted to throw them back in his face.

“What we were. What we no longer are,” Frederick said, eyebrows knit. He wheeled himself away from the desk, moving towards the door and opening it pointedly. “Thank you for stopping by Mr. Graham but I have appointments to attend to. Good day.”

Will stood, a look of calm resolution in his eyes. “Things...everything went so wrong, Frederick. And I really don’t know how to apologize for it all because I’m having a hard time believing any of it really happened. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I miss you. It’s this constant ache in my life, this hole I got used to having filled that’s sitting empty again. It’s not right sitting at home without you there to fuss about the weather or the mattress or how there’s nothing on TV. The bed feels strange without you in it.” Will sighed, looking away. “Can I at least take you out to lunch so we can talk some more?”

Frederick looked over, lips pressed together tight. He didn’t worry about things like mattresses or TV or the weather much any more. Everything hurt regardless.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham,” he said calmly. “I hope you find some other way to fill that hole of yours.”

*

The rest of the day was agonizingly uneventful. He had far too much time alone in his thoughts, too much time to dwell in his sorrow. Every time he passed employees in the hallway they looked at him with an odd mix of satisfaction and pity, which was so much worse than the ones who were flat-out afraid to look at him. By the time six o’clock came he wasted no time in sliding into his car and setting off for home. 

Home. What a joke. He’d lost every home he’d ever had. His beautiful house and creature comforts were sullied by the images of blood and dead bodies everywhere. Will’s home was locked to him forever, no matter what Will said. Now all he had was a townhouse where he kept his bed and his clothes.

When he arrived there Will was sitting on his doorstep.

Frederick sighed, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes and rubbing until his vision went spotty. He could feel his corrective lense slide out of place before smoothly gliding back to the center of his eye. “I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to talk.”

Will looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s been a weird few years, I’ve learned the hard way how to stick to my guns.”

Frederick snorted, sitting in front of him as he fished for his keys in his laptop bag. “You have never been anything but frustratingly stubborn, please don’t fool yourself.” Once his key ring was located he moved carefully up the ramp, turning the lock and letting the door swing open. “Either get in or fuck off, I don’t want the neighbors thinking you’re some strange transient napping on my stoop.”

Will stood quickly, walking in before Frederick could change his mind and retract the invitation. He looked around, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he took in the townhouse. Is was definitely scaled down from Frederick’s last lavish residence. It was barely even decorated, just some furniture and his laptop set up at the kitchen table.

“It’s...nice,” he said carefully, hands in his pockets.

“No it isn’t,” Frederick snapped, dropping his bag in the kitchen. He locked the wheels of his chair, bracing his weight carefully on the counter as he stood to grab a wine glass. “I sleep here, that’s about it.”

Will was silent for a moment, watching Frederick pour himself a glass of wine and drawing his fingers over the back of the couch. “You could always come home, then. Come back with me.”

Frederick froze, glass of pinot noir halfway to his lips. “Do you remember our conversation when you came to see me in the hospital? Do you remember breaking Lecter out of jail and running away with him? How about using me as bait and letting Dolarhyde _set me on fire_? I’m not going to let you pretend this never happened, Will. I’m not going to ignore you chasing another man, a serial murderer and cannibal nonetheless, to Italy. Your relationship with him is so codependent it’s dizzying.”

Will slowly walked forward, moving like Frederick were some frightened animal that might dart away. When he was close enough he reached forward, touching a hand to Frederick’s cheek. 

“Please believe me when I say I know I fucked up, Frederick. I’m...God, I’ve been so tangled up with him for so long, I’ve been sick with it. All I could think of was finally getting the chance to end it, to finish him before I could become him. So many of the people I knew were caught up in it too, Alana, Jack, the Vergers, it was…”

“Incestuous,” Frederick said pointedly, ignoring Will’s touch.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s a pretty apt way to describe it,” Will said, laughing mirthlessly. “Complicated. Confusing.” He dropped his hand, lips pressed together as he studied Frederick’s face. “I’m so Goddamn sorry, Frederick. Please know that I never for a moment meant for Dolarhyde to get ahold of you, that I haven’t slept in a long damn time knowing what I did to you, what you went through because of me. I though...I thought that if I could end it, that if I died with Hannibal, that somehow I’d be giving you justice... ”

Frederick swallowed hard, looking away. “Please, Will. You practically worship him.”

A rough hand wrapped around his own, bringing it up to dry lips. “You’re the only one I worship,” Will murmured, mouth brushing against Frederick’s knuckles.

Frederick finally met his eyes, furrowing his brow. “Really, Will? Are you sure?” With finality he set his wine glass down, removing his hand from Will’s. First he reached to his eye, looking down as he took gentle hold of his contact and removed it. It had become so easy. In the beginning he had to hold his eyelids open with the other hand, constantly catching the contact on his lashes, folding the damn thing or flipping it over or needing more solution because he hadn’t worked fast enough. Some days he’d have tears in his eyes, his frustration and desire to look “normal” so great and so important. Now it was nothing. Just a simple tap to his milky, disfigured eye and he could pretend it matched the other.

Next came the makeup. That was easy enough, the dish towel hanging from the handle of the oven door wiped it away without fuss. A simple pass of rough cloth over puckered skin and the hole in his face was once more on full display. With slight trepidation he reached into his mouth, taking hold of his partial and removing it.

And that was it. His shields down. Nothing but his broken body, his skin a network of scars from the multiple grafts he’d needed since the fire. Seventy-five percent of his body, burnt to a crisp, now only vaguely human looking thanks to the marvels of modern medicine. He stood bare in front of Will, exposed. “Are you absolutely sure?” he asked, all too aware of the slur to his words. “Is this the altar you want to pray at?”

Will frowned, tilting his head to the side. For a God-awful moment Frederick believed his own fears to be true, that he was a monster now, hideous. But then Will frowned harder, shaking his head. “Is this supposed to scare me away?”

“Yes,” Frederick said lamely. “Yes, it is.” He blushed, quickly rushing to put the contact and the denture back in place. “I’m not the person you knew, Will. I’m torn apart now, ugly. None of this is going to go away, these aren’t things that get better. Can you imagine waking up next to that horrible image every day for the rest of your life? Helping me in and out of this chair, listening to me weep like a child because the pain is unbearable sometimes? Can you leave Lecter, who everyone has bowed before at some point or another, for this?”

Will stepped forward to kneel before him, slowly bringing his hands up to cup Frederick’s cheeks. “Yes. Easily.”

Frederick swallowed hard, pulse thumping in his ears. Will’s body was so warm, so close; it would be so easy to just reach out and hold him tight. Could he let go of that anger? He’d never put much stock in being the bigger person, was it worth it this time?

Will bit his lip, gently stroking his thumb just under the scar from the bullet hole. “Frederick...can I kiss you?” he asked, voice soft but definite. He wanted this. Even with Frederick’s lips surrounded in scars from the surgery it took to attach them.

The only answer he could manage was a small nod, throat too dry for words.

Will’s smile was soft, eyes heavy lidded as they swept over Frederick’s face. From his eyes, to his lips, back up again. He was memorizing the moment, sealing it in his memory so he’d always remember the look on Frederick’s face. With a soft sigh he leaned in, letting his hands rest on Frederick’s knees as their lips met. 

It was soft, so god-damn soft. Frederick’s heart gave a pitiful beat in his chest, one more weak attempt to stay angry, to hold on to all his bitterness and fear. It wasn’t possible, though, not with Will’s mouth plush and sweet against his own and Will’s firm body holding him tight. For the first time in months he felt grounded. For so long he’d been drifting, his feet barely touching the earth as he threatened to float away. Now, with this, gravity set back in and brought him solid to the ground. 

Will pulled away, pressing another kiss to the corner of Frederick’s mouth. “Is this okay?” he murmured, one hand sliding up to stroke along Frederick’s chest. It was simple, affectionate.

Frederick nearly melted. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. Keep going.”

Will immediately obeyed, leaning in and sealing their mouths together. This time there was more passion, more confidence in the press of their lips. Frederick could feel Will’s own walls crumbling just as his own were. He thought of how the past months must have been for him; the pain, the fear, the worry that he had lost everything in his desperate attempt to be rid of the man who had always controlled him like a puppet on strings. Brush after brush with death.

Was there some way he was Will’s anchor?

He’d never been someone’s shoulder before, never been strong or grounded enough to be seen as reliable. The idea that Will might rely on him...well, it seemed dangerous.

“You’re thinking,” Will breathed against his lips. He leaned forward, laughing slightly as he accidentally rolled the wheelchair backwards. “Stop thinking.”

“You’re the only one in this relationship that manages to act without thinking, Mr. Graham,” Frederick managed, squirming as Will reached down to untuck his shirt. “Some of us like to think every now and again.”

Will laughed, a soft exhalation of breath against Frederick’s jaw. “Frederick, I just...shut up.” Before there could be a response they were kissing again, intensity growing with each new meeting of lips. Will’s hand, rough and calloused and so lovely and warm, slid inside of his shirt to stroke along his back. He trembled at the touch. It had been so long, so fucking long since someone had touched him tenderly. Since someone looked at him without fear or pity in their eyes. It filled his chest with something warm and whole, starting to knit his broken pieces back together. 

Something nervous twisted low in his stomach, and he pulled away. “I don’t...I don’t know if everything works anymore. You know. Down there,” he stammered, blushing.

Will smiled softly, resting their foreheads together. “Even if it doesn’t, I’m still more than happy to spend the rest of my life listening to you whine about what’s on cable every night.” He stood, bending down to steal another kiss. “Let’s find out later. I sort of missed just kissing you, is that ridiculous?”

Frederick felt the anxiety unravel and fade as the pressure was taken off of him. “No,” he breathed, smiling his first genuine smile in a long time. “Not ridiculous at all.”

Will winked, the bastard. He stole one more kiss before walking around to take the handles of the wheelchair, innately finding his way into the bedroom. He handled everything like he’d been doing it since day one, like they hadn’t lost a single day; locked the wheels, put one arm under Frederick’s knees and the other behind his back, lifted him easily and set him into bed. He’d always possessed this miraculous strength no one expected for his size.

Toeing his shoes off, Will crawled into bed and pulled Frederick close. He pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, sighing happily. “I’ll make a ramp for the house. Bed’s still downstairs, so that’s good. I’ve never really used the second floor for anything but storage anyway.”

Frederick made a fussy sound, cuddling close. “Can we move into one of the bedrooms, please? It might be nice to have an actual living room. And not have people think we’re crazy when they come to visit.”

When Will smiled it was like a sunrise, the last icy chill of winter melting away. “Frederick. Look at us. They already think we’re nuts. Me especially.” He ran his thumb lightly along Frederick’s jaw before moving up to stroke sure fingers through his hair. He touched Frederick like they hadn’t lost a single hour together. “You’re shacking up with the guy that went over a cliff with H-”

Frederick pressed a finger to Will’s lips, face serious. “No. Don’t say his name. Don’t talk about him. Don’t let him into our life. We’re starting fresh and he isn’t allowed to look over us.”

Will’s smile softened, something sad flickering behind his eyes. “No, you’re right. He’s gone, and we’re here, and there’s no point in wasting our thoughts on ghosts.”

“He’s gone?” Frederick’s whisper was soft, fearful. “He’s gone, right?”

Will pressed their forehead together, expression open and vulnerable as he met Frederick’s eyes. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

Frederick heard those words and believed in their second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> This was gathering dust in my in-progress folder FOREVERRRRRR. Man I missed these two. My first Hannibal ship <333333
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://that-vicious-vixen.tumblr.com)!


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